Dancing with Mr. Blakemore Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  DANCING WITH MR. BLAKEMORE

  First edition. May 3, 2014.

  Copyright © 2014 Olivia Gaines.

  ISBN: 978-1502210487

  Written by Olivia Gaines.

  Olivia Gaines

  Davonshire House Publishing

  PO Box 9716

  Augusta, GA 30916

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s vivid imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events are locales or persons, living or dead, are entirely a coincidence.

  © 2013 Olivia Gaines, Cheryl Aaron Corbin

  Editor: Rachel Bishop

  Proofreader: Teresa Thompson Blackwell

  Translations: Michelle Paola Pacheco

  Cover: koougraphics.net

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever. For information address, Davonshire House Publishing, PO Box 9716, Augusta, GA 30916.

  ASIN:

  Printed in the United States of America

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  First Davonshire House Publishing October 2013, The Blakemore Files

  DEDICATION

  For my bibliophiles.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To all the fans, friends and supporters of the dream as well as the Facebook community of writers who keep me focused, inspired and moving forward.

  Write On!

  Easy reading is damn hard writing."

  - Nathaniel Hawthorne

  Let us begin the adventure....

  Mateo Rentería

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One- Breakfast Interruptus

  Chapter Two- Tap Dancing Around

  Chapter Three- Can’t We All Just Get Along?

  Chapter Four- Tripping the Light Fantastic

  Chapter Five - Places Please.........

  Chapter Six- Is that a Machete in His Hand?

  Chapter Seven- Snake Spit & Snake Shit

  Chapter Eight- Shedding the Skin

  Chapter Nine - Strike a Pose

  Chapter Ten - The Warehouse from Hell

  Chapter Eleven - Dancing with the Pungi

  Chapter Twelve - Partnering Up

  Chapter Thirteen - Cue the Music

  Chapter Thirteen - On My Count

  Chapter One- Breakfast Interruptus

  Kevin Trodat, Jr was home from college for the summer and Saxton Blakemore was not very fond of his brother-in-law. The first time he met his brother-in-law was when the young man burst through Odessa’s backdoor yelling up the stairs at six in the morning. Saxton almost shot him. Fast-forward 18 months later, and the whelp had burst through the backdoor again, this time ruining Saxton’s opportunity for a hearty breakfast.

  If there was one thing a married man looked forward to, it was sleeping in on Saturday morning and getting an extra serving of breakfast with a side order of cuddling. Usually by now, he would have a mouthful of delectable cocoa-covered mounds shoved in his pie hole while he suckled like a babe all the way to happy town. Instead, he was sitting at the breakfast table with a serving of whole wheat pancakes, scrambled eggbeaters, and three strips of petrified tasteless leather his wife Odessa fondly called turkey bacon. It only added insult to his flaccid appetite to also be served reduced sugar orange juice and a piping hot cup of decaf coffee.

  I don’t want to eat this shit.

  Saxton wanted the cocoa mounds in his mouth, the gentle hands that would stroke his torso, and the mini-massage he normally received after a hearty serving of breakfast, which was now completely gone. The moment of connectivity with his beautiful wife was gone. He rolled his eyes up from his plate to make contact with the smart-mouthed interloper and destroyer of intimacy. He frowned at the plate and at his brother-in-law. I should have shot you when I had the chance.

  Instead of having those wonderfully silken legs wrapped around his waist in their Saturday morning dance, he was forced to sit here and listen to the court jester twinkle about, pontificating through some diatribe about the denigration of rap music. Kevin, of course, attributed the demise of the art form to the rise of unsavory thieves like Slim Shady and one Ryan Macklemore. Saxton had no idea who either of those people was, but in his mind, the real thief was Kevin Jr., who had stolen his sexy Saturday morning. He also knew what was coming next. His trigger finger started to twitch as Kevin Jr. slathered the rubbery pancakes with heart-friendly butter and low sugar syrup. It always started the same way, and he was not disappointed this morning when the young man decided to finally address him.

  “No disrespect to you Saxton, but it seems your kind keeps coming over to the dark side, and in a couple of years, you two are going to start having children...” was all Saxton heard.

  No disrespect?

  No disrespect?

  Every time you address me it is disrespectful. Where is my gun?, I will show you how disrespect feels.

  His face remained calm while his mind was lighting up Kevin Jr. with rubber bullets from his favorite 9mm. Saxton’s phone chirped and he looked down to see his brother Connard’s face on the screen. “Excuse me,” he mumbled as he rose from the table and stepped out in the back yard.

  Connard said, “I must have interrupted your breakfast or something this morning big brother. You sound grumpy.”

  “If I was having my breakfast, I wouldn’t have answered the phone,” he said dryly.

  “I was just calling to tell you I got the monogrammed towels you sent. These are really nice.”

  Saxton looked at the makeshift addition to the house, a storage shed that had been converted as an attachment for the offices of Blakemore Imports and Collectibles. He had more towels, knickknacks, and doodads than he knew what to do with, and when all else failed, he mailed them off to his family.

  “Glad you like ‘em, I have a set like them for washing my truck,” he told Connard as he peered back into the kitchen, watching his beautiful wife at the table with her pain in the ass little brother. Her face was taut as she spoke to him, her eyes glancing up at Saxton only once.

  Connard was laughing. “I am the oilman and I don’t have any fancy towels like these to clean my truck. Are you and Odessa doing something illegal over there? Stop, don’t tell me!”

  “The only illegal thing I want to do is put a bullet in my brother-in-law,” Saxton mumbled through the phone.

  “Sax, he’s young and trying to find his way, and I’m sure coming home from college and finding you married to his sister was a shock. Think about Grandma Patsy and Odessa. It takes a bit of time to adjust to some things. In the meantime, you also need to find a common bond,” Connard said with some reassurance to make his brother feel better. It didn’t.

  Saxton clicked off the line and looked at the yard. The grass needed to be cut and the hedges trimmed. If Jr. wanted to bond with him, he could come out and cut the grass when he finished raiding his fridge, which was next on the gatecrasher’s list after a demolition of those tasteless pancakes. There were a great number of things his wife Odessa did really well, but cooking wasn’t at the top of the list. He had never considered himself to be much of a foodie, but after being married to a woman who ate low-cal and low fat everything, he considered himself a gourmand. The whole scenario pulled him in conflicting directions, making his system feel out of sorts and in need of some form of maintenance.

  So did his yard. The yard looked scraggly and in need of his attention. He would do it later in the evening before the sun set. He grabbed his truck keys from the mudroom and gave his wife a two-fingered salute as he climbed in the cab of his tr
uck. His thoughts drifted to his beautiful, smart, and sexy wife sitting at the kitchen table with her favorite pink tank top clinging perfectly to those beautiful cocoa mounds, which had avoided a full-fledged assault by his overzealous tongue. He had other thoughts now. His stomach was grumbling and he was starving.

  Normally after a couple of rounds of Saturday morning matrimonial acrobatics, he didn’t care what he ate. He was happy, sated, and feeling loved. This morning, he was feeling nothing more than hostility. Hostility which needed a home. He had his favorite weapon in a locked container under some monogrammed towels in his truck’s toolbox. He would go to the range and fire off a few rounds at some make believe targets that he would envision as Kevin Jr.’s appendages. However, he had one stop to make first.

  Saxton Blakemore pulled into the IHOP and walked in with a grimace covering his face. Customers moved out of his way. Before he was even properly seated, he’d placed his order, “I’d like a large glass of orange juice, regular coffee, a steak, medium rare, hash browns, scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese and a short stack.”

  He could deal with being sexually frustrated for a few hours, but there was no need for his stomach to suffer as well.

  “Kevin, I have told you more than once, I am married now, and you can’t just show up at my house anytime you feel like it,” Odessa told her brother after Saxton rose and left the table.

  “Awww, ‘Dessa, it ain’t like I was interrupting anything,” he told her while he shoveled pancakes into his mouth.

  “You don’t know what the hell you were interrupting, and you’re lucky he didn’t shoot you.” She watched his face droop a bit. “Kevin, you are welcome here any time, but you need to be respectful and call first.”

  He lolled his head from side to side as she told him, “And you need to be respectful to my husband. His skin tone is not a point for jokes or any of your right wing causes. What you are doing is unacceptable.”

  “I’m sorry Sis, but he looks at me like I’m something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. And even when I try to talk to him, he leaves the room or the house or never answers me.”

  “Well, do you think maybe it’s because you address him as the ‘White Devil’?”

  Kevin Jr. shrugged his shoulders like a 6 year old that had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, after Mom asked, ‘Why did you do it?’

  Odessa looked out the window at Saxton, who was still on the phone. She knew he was angry. It had been a hectic week for them both and this morning would have been the first time in almost 9 days they would have had a chance to connect as husband and wife. She would make it up to him later tonight.

  The tension in his face was strained each time Kevin Jr. brought race into the conversation. Although she had dealt with the same feelings with his grandmother, at least Grandma Patsy had not been rude like her brother. A thought niggled in the back of her head. She had an idea.

  Saxton gave her his two-finger salute, which meant he was off to go eat something that would probably kill him in the long run. In the short run, however, it was probably going to truly kill him when she told him he would need to take some dancing lessons for her sister’s wedding. If there was a single thing that Saxton Blakemore hated more than shopping, it was dancing.

  Mr. Blakemore did not like to dance.

  Chapter Two- Tap Dancing Around

  To say that Odessa Trodat Blakemore was a strong willed woman would be the equivalent of saying that Kanye & Kim like the spotlight. However, of the many ways that Odessa could be labeled, bad wife was not one of them. As she tidied up the house, she heard the lawnmower start up in the front yard. It wouldn’t take Saxton long to finish the front and rear of the house and trim the hedges. It was already 4:00 and after a rough morning, her husband was due for a smooth evening.

  Keys in hand, she grabbed her purse and headed out. Tooting her horn at him while flashing her fingers on her right hand four times, she signaled she would be back in 20 minutes. Saxton nodded and continued pushing the mower.

  Odessa’s first call was to Zio Guido’s Pizza Emporium to order a large pie with the kitchen sink, and for herself she ordered a veggie calzone. The second call was to Tommy Chan’s for a double order of hot wings. The quick mart next to Tommy’s carried the cheapest beer this side of town and she picked up a six pack of Corona’s and even bought a lime that she would sterilize before slicing it for his beer. Pizza, beer, and wings in hand, she turned the car to head home.

  The conversation with her brother still weighed heavily on her heart and it bothered her that Kevin Jr., or Kev as she liked to call him, was so unaccepting of Saxton. Her brother’s main argument was that she had changed so much since she had gotten married. Her brother was right. Since she had been married to Saxton, she had changed.

  Killing a man changes you. Killing two really changes you. Two years ago, she had ended the life of Hector Delgado in Mexico to save the life of Mexican drug lord Victorio Rentería. Last year, she killed a man in the kitchen of her in-laws’ house to protect not only herself, but also Grandma Patsy. Him, she didn’t even know his name.

  The things she had seen changed her. Her love for her husband hadn’t changed at all. If anything, it was stronger. Either her brother would have to come around, or he could stop coming around. It was never a good sign when you had to choose between a person you shared your life with and your family. If her idea worked well, then at the end of the day, all would be just fine. But first, she had to soothe the angry bear that was her husband. She knew just how.

  “Odessa!” Saxton yelled as he entered the back door, saturated in sweat from cutting the grass and trimming the hedges. “Hey Baby, where are you?”

  “I’m upstairs,” she told him as she headed towards the bathroom to start the shower. She heard his footfalls as he took the stairs by twos; it was almost five and the pizza would be okay in the warmer. As his bare sweaty feet made contact with the hardwood floors, she knew when he entered the master suite, and she called to him, “In here Baby.”

  Saxton rounded the corner to see her turn the shower nozzles on before taking a step back to eye his expression. The last setting rays of sun shone through the small bathroom window, angling light downwards onto the beautiful cocoa body that stood before him in its purest form. The lighting appeared as if nature had provided custom illumination for the perfect form of woman. It mattered little to him that as many times as he had seen her undressed, each time he found a new favorite spot on her body. His breath caught as he stared at her, the smile on her face, the love in her eyes, and the understanding that this was for him alone. His eyes twinkled as he remembered the first time he had seen her in this state in Mexico, and even recounted his words, the exact ones used tonight as he had spoken then.

  “If I am to die today, Mrs. Blakemore, I want to hold you against me, in the late light of the day, in your finest glory.”

  Odessa opened her arms to him as he stepped into her embrace, his need for her attention straining against the jeans, begging to be freed. The sweaty tee she pulled over his head as he tugged at his belt buckle, loosening the pants, which pooled at his feet. They stepped into the shower together, Odessa using the large sponge to lather his body as he detached the shower head to saturate hers. Saxton’s hands were everywhere as he touched, caressed, and prepared her body to accept everything that he needed.

  “Odessa,” he whispered in the crook of her neck as he lifted her body from the floor and pressed her back against the shower wall, “my beautiful Odessa.” His words seemed to add to the steam of the shower as he pressed his right hand against the wall for support while she wrapped her legs around his hips and he thrust himself into her.

  Her breath caught in the back of her throat while the strength of her husband filled her, pleasing her and taunting her body with the need for a release. Saxton lowered his head, kissing her across dainty shoulder blades until finally he got what he wanted. His lips trailed lower over the smooth cocoa mounds of her breast, taking the t
aut dark raisin into his mouth and suckling like a babe. She moaned loudly as he shifted her legs, lowering the right one to the floor and the left one to brace against the wall and he squatted, aimed, and thrust upwards. Had she not been holding on to the shower head, her legs would have given way.

  He worked his hips, using small even strokes while his hands massaged her gluteus, pulling her forward to meet each of his thrusts. “Ohhh.” He heard the moans escape her throat, “Saxton, my love,” she cried again as he increased his pace. Odessa’s arms went up around his neck, holding onto him as he pressed her hips forward. His hips moved rapidly and he felt her tense around him, using his fingers to double her pleasure as she cried out his name clinging to him.

  Beads of water beat down upon their bodies as they clung to each other in the mist of the waters. Their dance of love completed the first round of the evening; it had been a long and busy week. They still had all night.

  “Odessa,” he asked softly as the water ran off his jet-black hair, “did I smell pizza?”

  She slathered her body with suds to scrub away the day, mumbling, “Yes, and I have beer and hot wings too.”

  Saxton stopped, using the back of his hands to wipe away the suds she had covered his eyelids with in her effort to wash his face. “This is bad. I know this is bad. What is it? Don’t hold back, just tell me.”

  He gnawed on his lower lip. Whenever she ordered pizza and wings, she had either bought something big or he had to do something he did not like.

  “Oh, it is nothing big Honey. Why are you so paranoid?”

  “Experience has been a good teacher these past two years, and you want something big.”

  “It isn’t big, Sweetie Pie,” she said as she took him in her hands and began to wash his favorite gun.

  “Nope, not this time Odessa. Reholster my pistol, and spill the beans,” he said, pulling free of her hands.